


tell me, every day i get to wake up to your smile (i can barely breathe)

by orphan_account



Category: Eboys RPF, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Age Regression, Cuddles, Fluff, George andrew - Freeform, James marriott - Freeform, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "How are you feeling right now out of ten?" it was something that he asked often when his younger boyfriend regressed, instead of making him speak his feelings. George used his little space to escape his anxiety and his feelings, so James never wanted to pull him out of that by making him explain why he was feeling the way he was.The shorter male held up several fingers, looking unsure of himself. James tilted his head and frowned, trying to make eye contact with George.“I need honesty, bubs."
Relationships: George Andrew/James Marriott
Kudos: 27





	tell me, every day i get to wake up to your smile (i can barely breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> these two are underrated together and you cannot change my mind. i’ve only seen one other sfw age regression fic from this fandom, so i said screw it. also james passes the cg vibe check. this is from my own oneshots book on wattpad in a different fandom. 
> 
> more about age regression - https://medium.com/invisible-illness/on-coping-mechanisms-age-regression-1e46f04729d4
> 
> song from i wouldn’t mind by he is we.

George was simply not having it today. He knew from the moment he woke up, feeling little, and James’ arms weren't wrapped around his small waist where they usually lay that it would be a horrible day. He reached his soft freckles hand into the basket underneath his bed and pulled out Pickles - a favourite dinosaur stuffie that he'd had for years. The slight boy sniffed the air, picking up the scent of eggs and bacon being cooked. Already pretty much regressed and forgetting about his earlier feelings, he giggled and bounced on the bed, face squished together in a happy smile, then ran downstairs to where his boyfriend was. 

Hugging his stuffie, he snuck up to James, who was whistling to some type of tune, maybe something he was working on, as he flipped the pancakes. George snaked his thin arms, still clutching the dinosaur, around his older boyfriend's waist, grinning into James’ back when he felt him laugh. 

"Hey beautiful boy. How are you?" 

George nuzzled his nose into his caregivers back before pulling away and rubbing his eyes. 

"Tired. Missed you. You weren't in bed," he spoke back, softly pouting up at him. 

"I know, bubba," James replied. "I’m sorry. I wanted to make some breakfast for the both of us."

" 'sokay, I suppose," George responded sadly, and James set down the egg flip he was holding before turned around to face the gentle boy in front of him. 

"How old are you right now, baby?" 

He watched George think for a minute before shakily holding up five fingers, clutching the stuffed dinosaur in the arm that wasn't holding up the fingers. The brunet smiled. 

"How are you feeling right now out of ten?" it was something that he asked often when his younger boyfriend regressed, instead of making him speak his feelings. George used his little space to escape his anxiety and his feelings, so James never wanted to pull him out of that by making him explain why he was feeling the way he was. 

The shorter male held up several fingers, looking unsure of himself. James tilted his head and frowned, trying to make eye contact with George. 

“I need honesty, bubs."

George’s lip quivered and shit, he burst into tears. James softly plopped himself on the ground next to the smaller and pulled him into his lap, softly rocking the both of them while muttering gentle words of encouragement into his ear, not caring about the breakfast that was burning behind them.

He knew then it wasn't going to be an easy day, but that was okay. 

He was going to try his best to help his baby get through it. 

. ・ 。 . ・ ゜ ✫ ・ . ☽ . ・ ✫ ・ ゜ ・ 。 ・ .

It was just after three when George had his second panic attack, roughly four or five hours after his first. 

The two of them had eaten breakfast (James ended up pouring cereal for them both due to the eggs and bacon and pancakes beings little... well, burnt) and George was colouring in at James’ feet for a little bit while the taller answered some work emails and queries, looking up as the small boy finished drawings and colourings occasionally and wanted to show his caregiver.

They were now curled up on the couch, cuddling with all of the stuffed animals he had accumulated over the few years he'd been regressing (most in curtesy of James, who adored George’s face when it lit up after receiving a pink penguin, or a red giraffe, or whatever he decided george would like). George’s mind was slowing pulling itself out of his small space, instead deciding that it wanted to be big again, and that was when the thoughts started rushing through, anxiety pushing it’s way into the front of his mind to niggle there. 

He tried to ignore it, he really did. George even tried some of the calming exercises that his therapist had taught him, but they weren't working, no matter how long he tried to regulate his breathing, or counting his heartbeats, or imagined himself of a pink fucking fluffy cloud. He was getting annoyed, wrinkling his nose and sitting up from where he was rested on James’ lap, gazing at the older boy with sleepy eyes. 

"Are you okay, beautiful?" The latter asked, and George frowned. 

"No. My thoughts just don't stop, Jamsey. They’re always there, and I don't know what to fucking do!" The younger started to tear up, sniffling. "I can usually control it, but today it's like I can try and do anything, but my mind doesn't even want to stay small because it just wants to keep thinking and thinking and it doesn't shut the fuck up!" And that's when he started sobbing and shaking again, collapsing in James’ arms.

"Baby," the brown-haired male said gently, hugging George as tight as he possibly could as he felt him shake and whimper. "You need to copy my breathing, okay? Take deep breaths with me. You’re okay. You’re in my arms, in our house. You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. I love you so much. Listen to my heartbeat and copy my breathing." And it was so sad that James knew what he was doing, that this was something George went through often and needed the reassurance, but James wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. 

James’ words were foggy in George’s mind, but he tried to listen, to think, to remind himself he was okay, James had him. The ginger haired male pressed his ear into James’ chest, listening to the soft beating that washed through his ears, trying to copy the up and down breaths that James came out with. 

They stayed that way for a while while George tried to calm himself, the elder male alternating between carding his fingers through the boy in his lap's hair and running his fingertips of his back. When George finally looked up at James, red faced and tear-streaked, his heart broke again a little bit more for the boy. The taller just wanted to take the pain away from his baby boy, and knowing that he couldn't hurt him the most. 

"Sorry 'bout your t-shirt." Was the first words out of his mouth. James smiled softly down at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

"It’s okay, it's just a shirt. you're more important a bit of fabric, bubba."

George sniffled once again in acknowledgement and wrapped his fingers around the said soiled shirt, resting his head where James’ collarbones lay while the latter continued to rub his back. 

"Wanna go down again?" James cooed quietly, and George who, in turn, nodded his head in approval to the statement. Keeping things that little george would approve of, James started carefully jiggling his leg that George was resting on and singing nursery rhymes in his ear, attempting to help his boyfriend get back down into the space he had regressed to earlier.

It was a few minutes later that George yawned and pulled back bit, looking tiredly at James. 

"Hey, baby boy."

George giggled in return and squished up his boyfriend cheeks with his cold hands. 

"Hihi, Baba!"

"Hey! You hungry?"

"Yes!”

“Alright, let's go make some sandwiches then."

. ・ 。 . ・ ゜ ✫ ・ . ☽ . ・ ✫ ・ ゜ ・ 。 ・ .

The rest of the day was pretty calm. James was happy to see his boyfriend relax and just let the worlds weight fall off of his shoulders, and it let himself just focus on one thing for once. It was good therapy for both of them, and that's why he agreed to the idea when George brought it up. 

"Baba?” George called out, and James looked back up from where he was trying to cook dinner, settling his eyes on the boy toddling over to him for a second before shifting them back down to watch what he was doing. 

"Yes?” He replied while continuing to cut up the lettuce he was putting in the salad, not really paying much attention until he felt a tug on the bottom of his shirt. The YouTuber stopped and looked down, smiling when he saw George making grabby hands up at him with a pale blue pacifier in his mouth. 

"Of course, babe. All you had to do was ask." James set down the knife he was using and picked him up, resting him on one hip while continuing cooking. 

"Made something for you," George muttered through the paci sleepily, resting his head on James’ shoulder. 

"Yeah, did you really? Wanna show me?" James asked back, throwing the lettuce that he'd chopped up into the bowl with the rest of the salad. A crumpling was heard, presumed to be paper of some sort, then said paper shoved in face. 

"I can't see that, beautiful," James laughed out loud, taking it with his free hand and moving it further, breath hitching in his throat at the sight. 

It was a rough drawing, honestly. George never had any talent in terms of drawing, at least not this kind of thing, and when he regressed he didn't care what it looked look, but when looking at this you could tell exactly who it was. It was clearly James, with his hazel brown eyes, dark hair and beard, but it seemed he was wearing a cape and carrying Jack (at least, he guessed it was George. The second figure in the picture had ginger hair and glasses exactly like his) on his hip while was making a bottle, or that's what he guessed it was. Other than the people, it was kinda hard to tell what exactly was happening in said picture.

“Baby, I love this," he whispered, reading the top that in squiggly letters that more or less spelled out “I love you, Baba. Thanks for looking after me'.

George giggled and swung his legs happily, kissing James’ cheek then wriggling himself down. 

"I love you. Thanks for looking out for me." He grinned cheekily, all toothy and white, then spun off in the direction of the lounge room in search of something else to do. 

James smiled after him, grabbing a magnet and pinning it to the top of the fridge before moving back to making dinner, and he couldn't think of a better boyfriend, a better life than the one he had. 

James had the sunshine in his arms, and he wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated xx


End file.
